


Role Models

by dillonmania



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Familial Abuse, Family, Father Figures, Gen, High School, Mentors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dillonmania/pseuds/dillonmania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone finally reaches out to a troubled high school student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Models

School had always been a mixed experience for Len. Some kids taunted him endlessly, calling him poor and mocking his shabby clothes and lack of lunch money. (Fortunately his dad’s abuse had taught him how to fight and take a punch without flinching.) But school provided an escape from his grim home life, and it was easier to cut class than avoid his father, so he didn’t really mind it. And the kids he fought were close to his own size, so they didn’t really faze him much. The only thing he disliked was when he got busted for fighting: not only did he receive detention, but his dad usually punished him further when he got home.

The staff member who oversaw the detention hall was very familiar with Len, and usually didn’t talk to him much. “Sit down and shut up,” was typically the extent of the man’s words to the delinquent kids under his dominion. He was a middle-aged hockey coach, gruff and tired of students’ bullshit. But one day Len was the only kid in detention, and the coach took a longer look at him than usual.

“Why do you fight so much, kid?”  
“No reason.”  
“There’s always a reason, even if it’s just a bad temper.”  
“The other kids are always giving me shit an’ stuff, and there’s a crowd of them that jump me if they see me after school. So I gotta fight,” Len said. He was determined not to make eye contact with the man, as he was deeply suspicious of the motive for talking to him. Most adults couldn’t be trusted, particularly those in positions of authority.

“Ever talked to a teacher about it?” the coach asked, and Len actually laughed.  
“No fuckin’ way. I don’t squeal, man. And what would a teacher do? Call me a ‘little bitch’ for crying, and then tell everyone about it. I don’t need that.”  
The coach seemed surprised and somewhat taken aback. “I don’t think a teacher would do that, kid, at least not one worthy of his position. Has somebody done that to you?”  
There was a long pause. “Not a teacher, sir. My da…” Len trailed off, and then corrected himself moments later. “Nobody. Nobody’s done that.”

The coach frowned. “Your dad?”  
“No! Not him. Nobody.” The boy’s eyes darted back and forth as he thought of ways to escape.   
The coach wouldn't be able to catch him if he could reach the back door; his survival instincts were in overdrive and he was almost desperate to withdraw from the situation. But something kept him in his seat.  
“You can tell me if you’re having trouble at home, kid,” the man said in one of the gentlest tones Len had ever heard.   
“I can’t. Just can’t. It’s complicated, but…nothing is going on,” Len said frantically. “Sometimes my parents argue, but they treat my sister and me okay. I just get into fights at school because I’m a shithead.” That was what his father called him, at any rate.

“Leonard…” the coach began with obvious skepticism, but the boy cut him off.  
“Sir, _please_. It’s fine, you have to believe me. Can we talk about sports instead?”  
“…of course,” the coach replied calmly, and changed the subject to the Combines’ most recent games. The duo chatted amicably about hockey and baseball for the next half hour, and then Len was let out of detention early. Once he’d left, the coach began writing a report about their conversation, which was handed to the principal the next day.

Nothing was done about the report. Larry Snart -- a belligerent ex-cop with a few friends left on the force -- frightened the school officials, and Len was believed to be a lying hoodlum anyway. Even the principal thought of the Snarts as dirty trailer trash. So the report was ‘misplaced’ and the police never investigated what the coach had called “an obvious case of child abuse”.

However, the coach never gave up: even if he couldn’t get the law involved, he could be a friend and role model to the troubled boy. He always had a kind word for Len after that, and they had some pleasant conversations about sports in and out of the detention hall. He even got Len to play back-up on the hockey team, and encouraged the boy to volunteer in extracurricular activities after school. There were fewer fights and fewer detentions, and Len’s permanent unhappiness seemed to lift a bit. He was even known to smile at times.

But the coach suffered a debilitating stroke during Len’s final year of high school. Len visited him in the hospital a couple of times, but his father quickly put an end to the trips when he learned about it. The coach eventually died after several years of poor health, and Len was forbidden to attend the funeral. As an adult, one of his chief regrets was that he’d never seen his mentor again, and that he hadn’t been strong enough to defy his father when his friend needed him most. Once he became a Rogue, he could afford to make donations in the coach’s name to a charity for stroke survivors, which was a way to keep the man’s memory alive. And he visited the grave every few months to keep the area tidy. The coach’s family was always surprised to find flowers dedicated “To Dad” on the headstone, because they were sure he didn’t have any children. But apart from his grandfather, Len had never known a better father figure than the kindly old coach.


End file.
